Signed, Anonymous
by boxers-or-briefs
Summary: Peter dreams about Ruthie every night, and every night he saves her. Not when it counts, of course, but in his dreams, he saves her. Eric Camden receives an anonymous letter, the author of which, he fears he knows all too well. COMPLETE
1. Deep, Dark Secrets

Disclaimer: I do not own _7th Heaven_, nor will I ever. All characters from the show belong to their creator, Brenda Hampton. 

Author's Note: This is the sequel to **_Love, Lucy_** that you all have asked for. This story line, however, will be mainly focused on Ruthie. That said, let's begin the story!   


* * *

**_Signed, Anonymous_**   
Chapter One:   
_Deep, Dark Secrets_   
  
  


* * *

  
  
It was dark; darker than dark. Black - it was pitch black, where nothing was even _remotely_ visible. So black that if you held your own hand up to your face, you wouldn't be able to see it. He saw nothing; he heard nothing. 

Then, suddenly, everything changed. It was bright. So stunningly bright, it hurt your eyes, like you were staring straight into the blazing sun itself. A blinding white light illuminated that darkness and he saw, for the first time, where he was. A room with rickety, wooden walls. A shack of some kind, he assumed. 

He heard her before her saw her. She was screaming, panicking. Wiping his watering eyes on his sleeve, he went to her, following the sound of her voice, through the maze of walls and doors. Stopping in the last doorway, he stared, for she was not alone. A man - a grown man - was with her, his back to him. The man had her pinned up against one of the four walls, struggling to get her top off. 

A sudden heaviness to his right arm diverted his attention. Somehow, a shiny, black pistol had appeared, and he was holding it, his fingers already on the trigger. Never minding the 'hows' and the 'whys', he rose the gun and steadied it. 

"Get away from my girlfriend," he called tonelessly, and the man turned to him. 

He jumped, surprised, and the weapon shook in his hand, but just for a second. The man's lack of a face had startled him. Moments later, he had pulled the trigger, and the faceless man had fallen to the floor. 

Dropping the gun, he ran. He ran and he ran, but never reached her, to who he was running. Just before she disappeared - along with the shack and the faceless, lifeless man - a soft whisper graced her lips: 

"Thank you." 

He was falling. Falling through that floor and in to the sky. Falling, falling, falling, through the white clouds. Falling until he was seated on a park bench next to her, his girlfriend, who he had saved. 

She was smiling at him, genuine happiness gleaming in her bright, brown, puppy dog eyes. Taking his face in her hands, she kissed his cheek, causing it to turn pink as he blushed. 

"I love -- "   


Peter jolted awake, his body drenched in cold sweat, the bedcovers twisted around his legs. Gasping for air, he glanced at his clock and read: 5:38 AM. 

"Ugh," he moaned and fell back onto his damp pillows. 

Not being able to go back to sleep, Peter recalled his dream. It was the same one that he had been living through each night since Ruthie had first told him that she was raped. Every night, he heard her screams, her cries for help. And every night, he saved her. 

Never once had he told a living soul about this particular dream. Not even Ruthie, to who he told everything. She knew all of his dirty little secrets...all but this one. This one was deep and dark. Telling her would only bring her more unnecessary pain that she was already in, for Ruthie Camden had her own dark secret that she hid. Not from him, but from her family. She had never told her family everything about Colton Hunter and her kidnapping. She never once mentioned to them that she had been raped.   


* * *

Eric Camden was in his office that very afternoon when the letter arrived. His door had been closed, therefore unable to see who had delivered it through the crack above the floor. The hallway was empty when he looked out, leaving the author's identity concealed. 

When the minister read the computer typed letter, he became overwhelmed with a feeling that he already knew who the writer was. 

Not skipping a beat, Eric pulled his jacket off the rack, pocketed the letter, and headed for home. He had to discuss this letter with his wife, Annie, before they sat down for dinner.   


* * *

Dear Reverend Camden, 

Before I go any further, I would like for you to know that if my situation wasn't so painful or hard for me to speak of, I would have sought you out in person. But this way, I feel it will be better for me to express my feelings through written words, rather than verbal. 

A few months ago, I was abducted. I am home now, and was only gone for a few days. And I'm really happy to be home with my family again where I am safe and loved. 

But I have a secret. A secret so painful, that I have kept from my loved ones ever since I got back. Reverend, I was raped. 

I can't tell my family, for I am afraid I will hurt that, and, honestly, I don't think they can take much more hurt. 

All I am asking for is a prayer. A prayer for me and all the other young women out there who have been through what I have. And please ask God to give me some direction. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know what to do with myself. I just feel so...dirty, so unclean. Sometimes I feel like it's my fault. I just don't know what to do. Please help me.   


Signed,   
Anonymous   


* * *


	2. Unwanted Attention

  


**_Signed, Anonymous_**   
Chapter Two:   
_Unwanted Attention_   


* * *

  
  
Ruthie was in the kitchen when her father came rushing in. Her heart raced when she saw what was sticking out of his pocket. Beads of sweat began to form on her brow line, and she almost felt sick. The look in his eyes when he looked at her just told her that he suspected that she wrote that letter. What made it worse was that she had. 

"Annie," Eric called when he had first entered the house. He hadn't seen Ruthie until he was around the corner. Plastering a smile on his face, he attempted to remove the anxious tone in his voice. "Hello, dear. Dinner smells good." 

Annie eyed him suspiciously. But she, too, smiled and played along, knowing that something was wrong. She was washing the lettuce for the salad while the roast cooked in the oven, emitting wonderful aromas. 

Eric cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "Um, can I talk to you...," he threw another quick glance at Ruthie, hoping Annie would catch it. She did. 

"Um, Ruthie, honey, could you do your homework upstairs. I know you asked for my help, but I need to talk to your father for a moment," Annie hesitantly told her daughter, whose face was completely drained of color. 

Ruthie closed her text book and gathered her papers. Without a word, she slipped from the room, but she never went all the way upstairs. As she had many times before, she stayed on the landing to listen in. 

Eric extracted the folded letter from his pocket and handed it to his wife. 

"What's this?" she asked, drying her hands on a nearby dish towel before taking the extended item. 

Eric sighed. "It's a letter that was slid under my office door today at the church." Here he lowered his voice. "I think Ruthie wrote it." 

Annie quickly scanned the letter, her expression staying consistent throughout the whole of it. She wasn't concerned about her daughter writing this letter for one reason, and one reason only: 

"Dear, Ruthie wasn't raped. She couldn't have written this." With that, Annie handed the page back to Eric, turning on her heels to leave the room. 

At the top of the stairs, Ruthie let out a quiet sigh of relief and continued the rest of the way to her destination.   


* * *

That Sunday, the feelings of shame and embarrassment that she had tried for so long to bury resurfaced after her father explained about the letter. Everyone that wasn't her family, zeroed in on her and rumors began to fly. If she had thought people were going to be this cruel, she would have never sent her father that letter. She would have just kept her secret and everything would have been fine. At that thought, she remembered who she was sitting by: Peter Petrowski. She had told him - he knew that she was raped. Knowing Peter, he would have told her family. 

A woman that was sitting at least two rows behind Ruthie came out with a particularly rude comment and didn't even care to lower her voice. Ruthie could have easily sworn that the entire congregation heard her: 

"It was that Ruthie. She disappeared for a while. I'll bet that she wasn't even raped. Knowing her, she probably brought it on herself. Minister's daughter, you know." 

Ruthie's cheeks turned red and she sunk in her seat. Peter grabbed her hand and squeezed it. He had heard, but he was trying to act like he hadn't for her sake.   


* * *

Going behind Annie's back, Eric decided to have a talk with Ruthie that night. He had to know for sure that it wasn't his own daughter that was raped. With each step that he climbed up to Ruthie's room, he prayed that he was wrong, but there was something in the back of his mind that said otherwise. 

He rapped on her door. 

"Who is it?" Ruthie called from inside. 

"Your father." 

The reply was delayed for almost a minute. During that time, Ruthie was debating whether or not she should talk with him. She decided that if she didn't, he would only take that as a bad sign. 

"Come in." 

Before entering, Eric sighed, preparing himself for this chat that he desperately did not want to have, but needed to. 

Ruthie was sitting on her bed reading a book. For school, no doubt, Eric thought as he took a seat on Lucy's old bed. 

She set aside the book, dog-earing the page she was on, and faced her father. 

"Was there something that you wanted to talk to me about?" she asked, telling by his expression that there was. Not even needing to _ask_ the question, she knew what about. 

"Yes, actually, there is something." Eric leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Ruthie, I need to ask you about that letter that I mentioned in church today." He clasped his hands together. 

"What about it?" Ruthie asked, trying to play it cool and succeeding very well. 

"Well, I -" Eric stammered. "Ruthie, I need to ask you if you wrote it." 

Ruthie shrugged. "No, I didn't." That sentence came out more confident than she felt. Yet, no matter how good she was at lying, she immediately felt a pang of guilt. 

Eric stared her in the eyes for a minute, trying to read her, trying to render if she was telling him the truth. He smiled and ran a hand through his thinning hair. "Hearing you say that makes me feel so much better." 

Ruthie matched her father's grin. "Glad I could help." 

Eric stood. He kissed Ruthie's forehead. "I love ya, kid." Just as he was in the door frame, he turned to look back at her, that nagging voice in his mind had returned. "And you're sure?" 

Ruthie sighed. "Dad, I'm sure. I know that I can talk to you and Mom about anything. You tell me all the time," she reassured him before he could give her another "trust" lecture. 

Eric smiled, and rounded the corner. He leaned up against the wall just outside her room. He was wrong. Thank God, he was wrong. Releasing his breath, he pushed away from the wall and descended the stairs. 

Ruthie watched the spot where her father had stood just moments before. Her heart had sunk so low, knowing that she had lied to her father. He was reaching out to her, she was pretty sure, and she turned him away. Her shot at being happy was dashed. 

She felt tears welling in her eyes. Brushing them away angrily with her sleeve, she thought, don't be stupid. You're not hurt - or pregnant - so nobody ever needs to know. And they won't.   


* * *

  
  



	3. Conversations

  


**_Signed, Anonymous_**   
Chapter Three:   
_Conversations_

* * *

Peter spent the night drowning in his dreams. It was a repeat performance of the former night, and the night before that. The gun had appeared at the exact same moment as it had each time before that. Everything was exactly the same. He had jolted upright just as Ruthie was about to declare her love to him on the park bench. The only thing that was different, the only thing, was the time it had taken him to relive it. Last night, he had awoken at 5:38. Tonight, it was 3:30. 

He sat, now, at his desk, tapping his fingers on the hard, cool, wood. There was no way that he could go back to sleep - even if he wanted to. His dream was so intense, it was like he was actually there. Every single detail had seemed so real. Even the faceless man, who stood in as Colton Hunter. 

At the thought of Ruthie's kidnapper-turned-rapist, Peter cringed. He didn't even know the guy, and he hated him. Hated him with a flaming passion. 

If Hunter ever gets out of prison, I'll kill him, Peter thought, his inner voice seething. The _second_ that bastard steps out into the light of day, I'll shoot him. 

Peter sighed. This was terrible. He was succumbing to his anger. Getting worked up like this was no good. Being this _angry_ was sure to put him in a rehabilitation center for sure. He had to do something. Something that would help him get over this. Ruthie's secret wasn't helping. If she wasn't going to tell her family about what happened to her, she shouldn't have told him. Perhaps if she had at _least_ told her parents, they could have helped share the burden. Instead, she dropped it all on him. 

Oh, stop it. Ruthie's doing what she can. It's just going to take time. 

Time, time, _time_ is what is going to drive you insane. You can't continue to live like this. 

Tell the Camdens. You have to tell the Camdens. 

No! Ruthie has to tell them. 

Bologna! It's not going to matter who tells them, just as long as they know. 

Now you're just being selfish. 

Peter groaned. Arguing with himself wasn't going to solve anything. It was just ridiculous. He put his head in his hands, feeling a headache coming on. Nothing was going to make him feel any better. Not unless Ruthie told her parents about the rape. 

He sat up straight and took a deep breath. Making Ruthie tell her parents was the only way. The _only way_.   


* * *

"Ruthie. Ruthie. Ruthie!" Lucy had been attempting to wake up her sister for the past five minutes. It was already past noon, and Ruthie seemed determined to sleep through the rest of the day, but Lucy was determined to wake her up. 

Lucy pinched Ruthie's nostrils together, just long enough for the girl to stir. 

"Finally!" Lucy exclaimed, throwing her arms up and letting them fall to her sides. She had her hands on her hips and was staring down at Ruthie, her face lacking her regular smile. 

Ruthie just stared at her, annoyed. She rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. 

"No, no, no. Enough. It's the middle of the day!" Lucy objected and rolled Ruthie back over. 

"Leave me alone," Ruthie grumbled. 

This was very unlike her. 

"Why are you being such a grump?" Lucy demanded, now pulling the covers back. 

Reaching for her blankets, Ruthie retorted, "I'm tired." 

"How is that humanly possible? You went to bed at nine last night, and you've slept most of this day away." Ruthie looked unfazed. "And you aren't sick," Lucy added. 

Ruthie sat up and sighed. "You _are_ aware that everyone in church was talking about me yesterday when Dad told them about that letter?" A tear slipped down Ruthie's face. 

Completely unprepared for this conversation, Lucy took a seat next to her sister. She remembered what she felt when she heard those rumors. Not a one of them was nice. They were all judgmental and mean. And they were all about Ruthie and her family. 

Unable to find any words to comfort her sister at that time, Lucy embraced Ruthie for a long while. As she pulled away, she kissed the crown of Ruthie's head, and told her that she loved her. 

"I'm going back to bed," Ruthie announced and flopped back onto her pillows. 

Now knowing why her sister was so depressed, Lucy didn't object. Instead, she helped pull the blankets back over her body. She exited the room slowly, pausing at the doorway to look back. 

"I'm sorry, Ruthie," she whispered, more to herself than anyone, then left the room.   


* * *

Just as Lucy was coming down the front stairs, the doorbell rang. Pulling back the curtains, Lucy saw who stood outside: Peter. She opened the door to greet him. 

"Hey, Peter. Is there something I could do for you?" she asked. 

"Actually," he began. "I was hoping that I could talk to Ruthie." 

Lucy was noticing the bags under Peter's eyes when she realized what he had just said. "I'm sorry, Ruthie's still in bed." 

Peter's brow furrowed as he checked his watch. "Is she sick?" 

Lucy sighed. "No, just depressed." 

Peter looked down at his feet. "It's about what happened at church yesterday, isn't it?" He looked up at her expectantly. 

All she could do was nod. 

"Do you think I could just talk to her for a second? It's really important." 

Lucy shrugged. "I guess. Maybe you could even convince her to get out of bed sometime today." 

As Lucy stepped aside to let him inside, Peter said, "I'll try, but you know how Ruthie makes her mind up about something and nothing in the world will get her to change her decision." 

"Yeah," Lucy agreed, as she and Peter ventured up the stairs.   


* * *

There was a knock at Ruthie's door. 

"Ruthie...," Lucy called, putting a hand on her sister's shoulder. 

"Go away," Ruthie mumbled. 

"Peter's here." Lucy had to lean back to avoid getting bashed in the head as Ruthie sat bolt upright. "And be nice," she said as she left the room. 

Ruthie glared after her sister. 

"Hi," he greeted her. 

Ruthie softened her gaze as she turned to Peter. "Hi." 

Peter chuckled as he came closer. 

"What?" Ruthie asked, finding it a bit offensive that Peter was laughing at her when she hadn't intended him to. 

Peter had taken a seat next to her. He was reaching for her hair. When he had smoothed it out, he tucked it behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her warm skin. 

"It was sticking up." 

"Yeah. Thanks." She found herself smiling. 

They sat in silence for almost a whole two minutes. Ruthie moved to where she was sitting side by side with her boyfriend. She cleared her throat. 

"So, I was thinking," Peter began, but stopped. 

"You were thinking about..." 

Peter turned to look at her completely, not just out of the corner of his eye. He took her hands in his and started again. 

"Ruthie, I dream about you every night." 

Her eyebrows rose. 

"I dream that you what happened to you...didn't. In my dreams I save you from Colton Hunter. I save you from being raped." 

Ruthie ripped her hands away from him and stood. "Shh! What if someone hears you?!" 

Peter got to his feet. He put gently grabbed Ruthie's shoulders and tried to elaborate. "Ruthie, in my dream, I save you. _Every single night_, I save you. Not when it counted, of course, but in my dreams...I save you." 

Ruthie was beginning to feel her blood boil. She did not want to talk about this. Especially not in her _house_ when everyone was _home_! 

Peter, sensing her anger, continued, "Ruthie I know you're in pain, unbelievable pain." He removed his hands and stepped back, for what he was about to say, may cause _him_ physical pain. "You have to tell your family." 

"Get out!" Ruthie screamed, pointing a finger at her door. "Leave. Now." 

Peter stayed rooted to the spot. "I can't do that, Ruthie." 

She huffed. "Fine, I'll leave." Ruthie spun on her heels and fled the room. 

"Ruthie!" Peter called following her. Finally catching up with her, he grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop in the second floor hallway. "Listen to me." 

Her face was red with anger. In fact, she was close to tears. "Let go of me," she spat. 

"You have to tell your family." 

"No, I _don't_. What they don't know won't hurt them." 

"Ruthie, I'm begging you, and you know I don't beg." Ruthie's eyes narrowed. "Like I said, I know you're in pain, but not telling your family won't help _you_. You'll be in pain forever." 

Ruthie said nothing, and he knew that he was reaching her on some level. 

"If you don't say anything, I will." 

"No!" Ruthie was hysterical. "You _can't_ tell them! You_ can't_!" 

All this time, they thought they were alone. For most of it, they were, but Simon had come out of his room. He had heard Ruthie's voice, and she was obviously upset. 

"Can't tell who what?" Simon asked, glancing from his little sister to her boyfriend. An uncomfortable pause followed his question, and he was certain that he wasn't going to get an answer. 

Peter sighed, and looked into Ruthie's pleading eyes. "No, I won't tell them. You will. Let them help you. See you, Ruthie." He turned and descended the stairs, leaving Ruthie and Simon alone in the hallway. 

"Are you okay...?" Simon asked Ruthie when the front door opened and closed. 

Ruthie threw a piercing glare at her brother and screeched, "I just want to be left alone!" She spun on her heels and stomped all the way up to her room, slamming the door behind her. 

Before he could leave, Simon saw Lucy running up the stairs. 

"Did Peter just leave?" Lucy asked him. 

"Yeah." Simon nodded and shoved his hands into the depths of his pockets. "Seemed kind of hurt, though." 

"Ugh, I told her to be _nice_!" Lucy exclaimed, looking in the direction of the attic stairwell. 

"You told her- _What is going on_?" Simon demanded, feeling completely behind times. 

Lucy took hold of Simon's arm and pulled him to his room. "Let's talk."   


* * *


	4. Truth

  


**_Signed, Anonymous_**   
Chapter Four:   
_Truth_

* * *

"Frankly, I'm not surprised." 

Lucy stared, trying to determine if her husband had just said that. The married couple was sitting at the dining table in their humble garage apartment discussing the nature of Ruthie's situation. Lucy had come back from explaining to Simon just half an hour ago. Being her and Ruthie's sister, he immediately felt sympathy and anger. Kevin's response, however, was a little less predictable. 

"What?" she asked, still feeling a bit stunned by his words. 

"Luce, everyone is their own person. They aren't all detectives who want the facts of one case before they judge it. People are going to believe what they want to believe, even if their ideas are a little outrageous." Kevin reached for his coffee mug and raised it to his lips. 

Lucy sighed. "A _little_? Kevin, you weren't in church on Sunday. You don't know what people were saying, what hurtful words they were saying, about my sister." 

"Yes, I do." He set the mug down in front of him. 

Again, Lucy was confused. "How could you have known? You were out on a special assignment with Roxanne." 

It was Kevin's turn to sighed. "Luce, word gets around. I don't need to be in church to hear what is being said." 

She didn't think it was possible for her heart to sink any lower on this subject, but it did. 

"There's gossip going around the station?" she asked nervously. 

Kevin cringed slightly. "Not just around the station; people are talking about Ruthie everywhere." 

Thoughts ran through Lucy Kinkirk's mind. The words that she had wanted to forget so badly, replayed themselves without her liking. Then, Ruthie's tearful eyes looking at her with such hurt and sadness. 

"How can people be so cruel and judgmental?" Lucy asked as she watched her spouse come to stand by her side. 

"I don't know, Luce. I wish I could change things for you and Ruthie and your family, but I can't." Kevin tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. "I don't mean to leave you here alone, but I have to get going or I'll be late for my shift." 

"I understand. I love you," she said softly. 

Kevin smiled and Lucy felt as if her heart skipped a beat. It amazed her at how one smile from the man she loved seemed to take her breath away and freeze that moment in time where everything was right and she felt nothing but happy.   


* * *

Reverend Camden sat in his quiet study that evening, going over the letter whose author was still "anonymous." He must have read it about a hundred times now, and still, there was no answer. His mind kept dragging him back to the possibility of Ruthie, but denied it every time. Annie had to be right: Ruthie couldn't have written the letter, for the simple reason that she wasn't raped. Ruthie wasn't one to keep secrets like this. 

Besides, you already spoke with her about it, and she said she didn't write it, he told himself. Let it go. 

_"I know that I can talk to you and Mom about anything. You tell me all the time."_

Frustrated, Eric removed his eyeglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to ward off the on-coming headache. As he sat there, not knowing what to do, he felt it. He felt that he might fail in finding this person in need of help. The feeling was extremely slight, but it was big enough to feel. That scared him. 

There was a soft knock on the door. 

Eric folded the letter and put it aside. "Come in," he called. 

Ruthie entered the room in her sleeping attire. "Um, can I talk to you for a second?"   
Eric patted his knees, gesturing for her to come and sit on his lap like she used to do when she was just a little girl. 

Shutting the door behind her, Ruthie came to him. His arms wrapped around her, and instantly she felt uncomfortable. Ever since the incident, people touching her was a problem. She supposed that it was natural for a victim of that kind of invasion to feel like this. It was just another side effect. 

Eric felt Ruthie flinch as he held her in his arms, so he loosened his grip. Not questioning her on it, he let her start the conversation. 

"Dad, all of my life, you've really cared about people. Even the bad eggs that do nothing but spread gossip. It's never really bothered me, even when they were talking about Mary and why she got kicked out." Ruthie sighed. "But now that they're talking about me, it's different." 

Eric tensed. "What are you talking about? You think people are gossiping about you?" he asked. 

Ruthie twisted to face him. "Dad, ever since you brought up that letter in church, people have done _nothing_ but talk about me." 

"Honey, I haven't heard anyone speak badly about you," Eric explained. 

Ruthie smiled. "That's because you listen with your heart. We all know that." She turned, resting her head on his shoulder. 

"That one, I've heard before." Eric kissed Ruthie's temple. "What are people saying about you?" 

Ruthie's eyes wandered to her father's desk, where she saw the familiar piece of white tri-folded paper. She reached for it. "They think I wrote this." A moment passed before Ruthie said anything more. "But they don't think I was raped. They think I 'brought it on myself.' You know, the old 'minister's daughter' standard." 

Eric gave Ruthie a squeeze. "Ruthie, that is ridiculous, and you know it." Eric looked into Ruthie's eyes, and for the first time during their conversation, he noticed that she had her guard down, but only for a second. Yet, that second lasted long enough for him to recognize the tremendous pain and rage. It seemed like too much for a single woman to accumulate in one lifetime. 

Ruthie knew that her father had seen inside her, had seen what was really going on. She had been stupid to even come and talk to him in the first place. He was too smart a man to be fooled by her act forever. 

Eric took the letter from his daughter and opened it with his free hand. "Ruthie, you know that you can tell your mother and me anything. Anything at all, even if you think we can't handle it. So if there's something that we need to know, now's the time to get it out."   
She was silent, and her expression revealed nothing to him. 

"Honey, really, if there's anything -" 

"No." Ruthie stood and faced her father. "No. There's nothing." 

She closed the door behind her on the way out, not leaving time for her father to say a word.   


* * *

"Hey, Mom. Kevin's gone for the night, so I thought I'd stop in for a while." 

Lucy had caught up with her mother in the kitchen of her childhood home, wiping the table with a damp cloth. Annie looked over at her daughter and smiled. She was just about done cleaning, and Simon was getting the twins ready for bed. For once, she had time to have a chat with her second eldest daughter, who was often wrapped up in her own life and Kevin. 

Lucy took a seat at the table, as her mother brought a cup of coffee for her and one for herself. 

"Anything interesting happen lately?" Annie asked. 

Lucy shrugged. "Nothing _interesting_, per say. More like, disturbing." 

Annie's brow knotted. "Does this have anything to do with Peter's visit today?" 

Lucy sighed, looking into the black sea of coffee. "Sort of. I don't - It's just - Something's up with Ruthie. More than just the gossip. She's hiding something, I know it." 

This concern for Ruthie was nothing new to Annie. She had sensed it, too. Everyone in the family had - even the twins. Annie knew that Peter and Ruthie were very close. After all, Ruthie tells him everything. So, anything that was going on with Ruthie, Peter knew about, but Annie wasn't about to go digging for something from Peter that she should be told about by Ruthie. 

"Have you talked to her?" 

"She didn't tell me anything. She says that she's just upset about the rumors going around, but I don't completely believe her." 

Annie bowed her head for a moment. "I know what you mean. Ruthie knows that she ask any one of us for help if she needs it. She just has to do it herself." 

Lucy nodded and took a sip from her mug.   


* * *

Ruthie locked herself inside her bathroom, hoping to avoid all family members. They all knew that something was wrong, except for Mary and Matt. How lucky they were to be thousands of miles away. She wished that she was somewhere in New York, or just about anywhere that wasn't Glenoak. There were too many people that knew her here, too many people who knew what happened. 

She couldn't keep this secret forever, that she knew. Truth was going to surface sooner or later, whether it came from her mouth, or Peter's. He knew, and her father was going to catch on. She was such a stupid girl. Stupid to have told Peter. Stupid to have gone to her father in search of a feeling that she was loved. Stupid to have shied away from help and happiness for the second time. That was her second chance that she had been praying for, hoping for. And just like the first, it was shattered...by her. 

Ruthie had flirted with the idea of telling her family, but the ideas of how they would react scared her, no matter what her father said. He would be angry with her, and so would the rest of them. 

On the other hand, it would be nice to get this off her chest. It would be nice for her to share the burden. It would be nice. 

_ "I know you're in pain, but not telling your family won't help you. You'll be in pain forever."_

Deep down, on some level, Ruthie knew Peter's words were right. If she never got rid of this secret, she _would_ be miserable throughout the rest of her life. The people she loved couldn't keep guessing. They had to know the truth.   


* * *

  
  
  
  



	5. Falling From Grace

**Author's Note**: All of the views expressed in this particular chapter, and possibly in future chapters, Ruthie's take on God changes. It may be disturbing to some, which is why I am posting this author's note. Just remember, that these are not my views, and I do not want flames for that type of thing. 

**References**: You will find all references at the bottom of this chapter, because there will be a few.   
  
  
  


* * *

**_Signed, Anonymous_**   
_Chapter Five:_   
_Falling From Grace_

* * *

  


Telling the truth takes courage. Being the brave one in her family, she should have had said courage to muster. For one split second she had it, had the confidence in herself to tell the facts, but as quickly as it had come, it disappeared as soon as she lay on shaking hand on the cold doorknob. 

Letting out a defeated sigh, Ruthie leaned on the counter in front of the sink. Slowly, she lifted her head to look at herself in the mirror. God, she looked terrible, pale with circles under her eyes (probably from lack of sleep, or too much of it). Her hair, it's beauty completely gone, fell around her face in stringy strands. Lifting a hand, she ran her fingers through it, hoping to better her image, hoping to change something so she didn't look like entirely like crap. It was no use. Her secret was eating away at her from the inside, and it was beginning to show, much to her dislike. 

It was only a matter of time until everything was out in the open. Her father was hot on her tail with that letter. He would figure it out, if he hadn't already. She knew how he worked, what connections he had with the police department. Factor in the forever-pestering Lucy, and you had a tangled web of lies that was going to be far more difficult to weasel her way out of than anything else she had before. Most of the Camdens were gullible, for they trusted too many people. Just look at what happened with the Hunters, her father's so-called friends. 

Ruthie had fooled her family many times in the past, lied to get what she wanted, and this case was no different. She would deceive until she was in the clear, until her father threw in the towel on the letter, until she, herself, believed that God would answer her prayers to be happy. She realized now, that her father's attempts to save her were mediocre. They were obvious and ultimately harmful. God must have not wanted her to be helped by the reverend, which explained why she had not accepted her father's out-stretched hand to happiness. 

Although, every situation has two point of views. There is the optimistic view, where everything happens for a reason, and eventually you will be removed from your rut by a higher power: God. If you pray long and hard, you will get your answer, you will be saved. Ruthie's attempts so far, all had something to do with prayer. Ask and ye shall receive. 

The other, darker, side of things had not occurred to this confused teenager until that very moment when she looked into her own eyes and saw for herself. It was in that moment, that she knew. She knew, could feel it, that she didn't believe in Him anymore, didn't believe in God, for _He_ was making her suffer. If He really had the power to make things better, to help people make the right decision, why didn't she feel like she was ever going to move on? The truth was, He doesn't. Believing in Him was pointless, a waste of time. She was going to spend the rest of her pathetic life going through the motions, struggling to make her family believe that she was fine, that she was happy. 

You are worthless, she thought at herself. You weren't set here to do any greater good. You were set here to suffer. Just like every other poor bastard set here, you are only good for feeling "human" emotions. He's probably laughing at you, because He's won. We are simply the ants sizzling under the magnifying glass.   


* * *

"Again?" Lucy asked, sighing defeatedly. She looked down at the jacket draped over one arm before tossing it aside. "I thought we were going to have dinner." 

Kevin set the cordless phone back into it's cradle. "I'm sorry, Luce, but this is important." He began to unbutton his shirt. 

Watching him disappear into the bathroom, Lucy wondered if she was ever going to get her special night out that Kevin had promised her weeks ago. Every night that they planned to go out, Kevin had to work. He claimed that every single assignment was "important," and this one was no different. 

Lucy slumped onto the bed and scowled. She was grumpy, and had every right to be. Having a husband was supposed to be wonderful and fun, but they always had to work. She pondered her mother ever feeling this way. 

Kevin came out of the bathroom in full uniform, complete with gun holster. He gave her a slight, apologetic smile as she eyed him when he passed. 

"What is it this time?" she demanded, glaring at him. She knew she sounded pathetic and ungrateful, but his work was beginning to get to her. 

Her husband came to stand in from of her. "I can't discuss this with you right now, Luce. It's confidential until we know more about it." 

She scoffed and looked away. "I'll bet," she mumbled, but Kevin heard her. 

"I'm sorry, Lucy, but this is my job," Kevin tried as Lucy crossed her arms across her chest defiantly. He wished that he could let her know how hard this was on him, never getting to spend any time with her. He wished her could let her know that she was the most important thing in his life. He wished he could, but he couldn't, for if he were to show his true emotions to Lucy, they would both be weak. Kevin Kinkirk was strong, and he had to remain that way. 

Lucy's eyes stayed cold and hard. "You're _job_ is to protect people, not to abandon them - me!" 

Kevin sighed heavily. "I'm not abandoning you, sweetie." His calloused hands slipped under Lucy's chin, drawing her face up. Gently, he kissed the stray teardrop that lay on her cheek. "I love you," he whispered in her ear. 

Lucy's anger that she had only moments before began to instantly disintegrate. "I love you, too." 

He pulled away, studying her smile before he turned and left the apartment without a look over his shoulder. Another round of encouraging her under his belt. He wondered how much longer he was going to have to do that before she could understand that he was doing this job to support _her_. Everything was for her.   


* * *

Annie found Eric in the kitchen in the same position that he had been in for the past two hours: hunched over the rape letter that he still had not yet discovered the author of. To the side lay a notebook open to a blank sheet of paper. She didn't know how long he was going to torture himself with this. The same situation had took place years ago, where a young boy had asked for a prayer, not a minister on his doorstep. This was the same predicament, but just like the last, Eric was going to find who it was that wanted that prayer. 

She laid a warm hand on Eric's shoulder, making him jump. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," she apologized. 

"No, that's okay," he replied, catching his breath once again as he returned to the letter. 

Annie reached over and took the letter from the table and folded it up. 

"Annie," Eric groaned. "I need that." 

Annie stuffed the letter into her pocket. "You have been working on this for too long. Stop trying to find this person. All they asked for was a prayer, and you gave it to them." 

Eric rose to his feet. On his face, he wore a solemn expression. "I don't have to find that person. I already know who it is." He sighed, exhausted. 

Annie's eyebrows rose. "Who?" 

He shrugged. "It's Ruthie." 

She laughed. "Don't be ridiculous." But Eric's face showed that he was sure. "No." 

She didn't understand, he knew she didn't. Maybe if she did, she would encourage him to talk to their daughter, or maybe she could try something. But he knew that Annie was set on not seeing it his way. If Ruthie hadn't come to him to talk, he would have gone with his own wife, but it was Ruthie. He was sure of it, even if Ruthie denied it. 

"Annie, if you'd just ask her about this like I did, you'd know it, too." 

Annie's eyes narrowed. "You asked her about it? Without telling me first?" She was suddenly angry. Eric was trying to pin this on _her. _Was it a crimne to respect her daughter enough to let her have _some_ privacy in this house. Maybe she was being a bad mother, not trying to get to the bottom of this, but she just didn't want Eric to be right. He _couldn't_ be right, he just couldn't. 

"Annie, I'm sorry, but you have to understand that I had to know." Eric tried to explain. 

"And she came right out and told you?" Annie asked, her voice heavy with sarcasm. She knew her daughter better than anyone else. 

"Well, no - " 

Annie interrupted. "Then you have no case. Until those words come out of Ruthie's own mouth, I refuse to believe that." 

Eric sat, feeling defeated. "Was there something you wanted?" 

She felt confused. "Huh?" 

"You came in here to talk to be about something, didn't you?" 

She had been so swept with her husband's proposition about Ruthie she had completely forgot about Thanksgiving. Taking a set next to Eric, Annie pulled the pad of paper and a pen in front of her. 

"We need to talk about Thanksgiving." 

"What about it?" Eric asked. He had forgotten all about the holiday that his family spent together every year. It would be here in all but three days. 

"I talked to Matt and Sarah. They'll be here tomorrow, along with Mary," Annie rattled off, smiling that her entire family would be together again, even if it was only for a few days. 

"Wait. What about Carlos and the baby?" Eric asked, scratching an itch on the back of his head. 

"The baby's sick, and they don't want to risk bringing him all the way out here. Carlos is going to stay back in New York with him." 

"That doesn't seem very fair to Carlos." 

Annie shrugged, feeling her happiness being trudged on by Eric. "I know, but it was their decision, honey," she said sounding slightly annoyed and put-down. 

The dryer dinged and Annie got to her feet, happy for the distraction, but before she attended to the clothes, she said firmly, "And please forget about that letter. At least for the holidays and your happiness." She couldn't let it go. If he didn't stop killing himself over connecting Ruthie with that letter, she was going to burn it. 

Eric put his head in his hands, as it throbbed. He was so confused and worried. His heart was set on Ruthie being the writer of the infamous letter, but he was torn between what Annie wanted him to do. How was he possibly going to be able to just let his daughter go, when this was the time that she needed him the most, even is she didn't admit it? But what if he was wrong? Ruthie wouldn't lie about something like this. Or was his daughter even more diabolical than he ever imagined possible?   


* * *

**References:**

"...going through the motions..." - from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_   
"Ask and yea shall receive." - _7th Heaven_   
"Just look at what happened with the Hunters, her father's so-called friends." - Is a reference to **_Love, Lucy._**

Next chapter should be up soon. I already have a few ideas for it. More, and possibly some new, characters will be thrown into the mix.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Shattered

  


**_Signed, Anonymous_**   
_Chapter Six_   
_Shattered_

* * *

Hands, his cold hands on her body, making her shiver. It was with those hands that he touched her in places she had never been touched in before. Fingers, tracing the outlines of her breasts, made her choke on her sobs. His mouth by her ears, whispering nasty things to her, nibbling on her ear. She could feel his heartbeat against hers through his sweaty skin. 

She was crying, screaming out for help until her voice grew hoarse. Tears streamed from her eyes, landing on her hair that was strewn about her head. She was helpless. He overpowered her, had total control. She was but a toy to him. 

"Stop," she sobbed. "Stop." 

He never replied, not that she really wanted him to. Words were not what she wanted. What she wanted, was to rewind time, to be home with her family and have this never happen. But she knew that was impossible and this was an event that could, and would, change her life forever. There was no getting over this. Ever. 

She couldn't breathe. Her lungs were collapsing. Soon, she was gasping for life, and even then he didn't stop. Every passing minute seemed like an eternity. She began to think that he was never going to quit. He had already gotten what he wanted, why wasn't he stopping?   
Her vision was clouding and she felt dizzy. 

"I...can't...breathe..." she moaned, closing her eyes. 

He sucked on her neck. "I love it when you talk dirty to me, sweetheart." 

Just when she thought he was going to go for another round, he rolled off of her and onto the wooden floor, landing with a thump. It was there he stayed until he decided that it was time for him to leave. Without a word, he stood and left the room, his bare feet _clump-clump-_ing away. 

Ruthie let her head fall to the side. Knowing that her chances to survive with this creep were slim to none, and her chances of getting away was unthinkable. He had won, and for the first time in her life, she had felt the pang of defeat. For the first time in her life, she was the weaker one. 

For a long time, she felt nothing. Her heart was completely numb, and that numbness wouldn't wear off for a very, very long time. Every day that passed, went by in a haze. She was entirely oblivious to the outside world. Not being able to accept what had happened to her, she went into a kind of coma that she did not slip out of until she become aware of her sister coming to rescue her. And even then, Hunter beat her. 

She would have a guilt cloud hang over her head, following her everywhere she went. It was her fault that she got kidnapped. It was her fault that she put Lucy in that situation. It was her fault that she got raped. The gossiping church ladies were right: she _did_ bring in on herself. She was a bad, very bad, girl. 

"That's seven years bad luck, you know." 

Ruthie's memory broke away as a voice in her doorway sounded. Her head snapped to the speaker, finding herself looking straight into the sparkling green eyes of Colton Hunter.   


* * *

Pushing shirt after shirt aside, Eric rummaged around in his dresser drawer searching for the letter that Annie had taken from him. He knew that he shouldn't, that he had already gone against her wishes many times about this, but he had to know. Thanksgiving was upon them, the older children arriving soon, and he still did not have his answer. His hands closed around an item in the back that seemed to be stuck. Giving it a hard yank, he managed to free it. 

"So that's where that's been," he mumbled, examining an old Hawaiian shirt that Annie had never liked. Shrugging, he tossed the shirt aside. "She could have done better than that." 

Minutes passed, and he soon remained empty-handed. Perhaps he should listen to his wife and let the letter alone for a while. It _would _make Annie happy, for a day, anyway, he pondered. 

Eric slumped onto the bed. His eyes slid over to the brightly colored shirt that seemed to be calling out to him. 

"Why not?" he said aloud, even thought he knew why not. Tugging on the shirt proved a bit difficult, seeing as he had filled out a bit since he had first bought it several years ago when he and Annie were first married. As he was buttoning the last few buttons, he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror. 

He smirked. The shirt felt a little smug, but it didn't look it. Standing, he clicked his tongue and pointed to his reflection, satisfied. "He-ello, sir."   


* * *

Sanity was one thing that many of the Camden women lacked when their men strayed from them. Absurd scenarios flickered in and out of their minds as they wondered when their husband was going to come home, or even if he was coming home. They wondered, if they had stayed out that extra minute, if they were doing exactly what they said they would be doing, or _not_ doing. 

On that particular night, Lucy had fallen victim to her hereditary insanity. 

She had been washing dishes, more vigorously than necessary. Soap bubbles flew as she dipped-scrubbed-and-rinsed. Water splashed on the floor and on her clothes. It was a wonder why she hadn't broken any glass yet. 

"...'Roxanne is my _partner_.' 'I _depend_ on _Roxanne_.' Special assignment my butt..." Lucy muttered as she dunked another blue plate into the warm, sudsy water. "We'll just have to see if he gets any _tonight_!" And with that, she tossed the dish aside to dry in the white holder. 

Kevin had been gone for hours, without a single phone call. Needless to say, Lucy was beginning to doubt his sincerity. She was seriously considering calling down to that police station and ask about him, but she wouldn't. The rest of the day would wear on with her wondering if she was ever going to get to see her husband again, or if she would ever have her dinner plans carried through. If this 'special assignment' crap didn't come to a stop soon, she wouldn't be able to enjoy a night out with him.   


* * *

Without thinking, she flung herself at him, wanting to throw him to the floor, but only succeeding in him stumbling two steps backward. Swinging, she landed blow after blow to his chest, wanting to completely shatter his ribcage, wanting to make him experience what it was like not to be able to breathe. 

He seemed to be in some state of shock, not being able to do anything to defend himself against her. She had caught him off guard. This time he was the one unprepared for the inevitable hurt that would befall him. He deserved more than this, of course, he deserved to be shot to death, deserved to be run over again and again, even after he was dead. 

"Ruthie," he called to her. "Ruthie, stop." 

In her mind she laughed at his pathetic words. She would never stop. He was an evil man, an evil man who ruined her future and contaminated her past. Ruthie hit him harder, not even bothering to look into his face as she did. He wasn't worth it. 

"Hey, I'm sorry. It was a joke." His voice sounded happy. 

Was he_ laughing_ at her? 

A hand closed tightly around her wrist before she could punch him again. She tried to jerk away, but it was useless. Once again, he had beat her. With just one hand, she couldn't do much, so she settled for kicking him in the shin. 

"Ruthie, stop. It's me. It's Simon." 

Ruthie looked up, at first seeing nothing but Colton's pointed face. Within seconds, Colton cleared out like fog as the sun rose and her brother's familiar features came into view. Simon looked so worried, so concerned, about her. He was confused, you could see it in his eyes, the eyes that only seconds before, she had been so very convinced that they were Colton's. 

Her heart sunk as tears welled up. She felt terrible. Her secret was consuming her, running every aspect of her life, blinding her to those who she was loved by. Everything was tied back to the Hunters. Every single thing, no matter how small. 

"What's going on?" Annie and Eric had appeared, their expressions identical to Simon's. 

"We heard something break," Annie provided. 

Simon looked past Ruthie's shoulders, into her bathroom. She followed his gaze, and saw shards of glass covering the floor and counter space. Above the sink, the mirror had been destroyed. That was when she felt the throbbing pain creeping up her right arm. Jagged pieces of the mirror were lodged in her skin. Blood was slowly streaming down her hand and dropping onto the floor. 

"What happened?" Eric asked, as he and Annie stepped past Ruthie to investigate, not yet noticing their daughter's injury. 

Simon paled. "Ruthie, your hand." He watched as another drop of blood hit the floor. 

The moments after became a blur. She couldn't remember much, just her mother's face draining of color to match Simon's, and her parents coming towards her; she remembered Simon helping her down the stairs and into the car. They were heading to the hospital. Annie had stayed home, for Matt, Sarah, and Mary were to arrive at any time. 

Simon had sat with Ruthie in the back seat, holding her hand that wasn't shredded, as they rode. The last thing that she remembered was Simon telling her, "You're going to be fine, Ruthie. Just hang on." 

Then she past out.   


* * *

  
  



	7. Fire and Ice

**Author's Note**: This chapter, Ruthie is not like herself at all. (**Very A/U.**) She gets an unwanted visit from Peter, and hateful words are exchanged. **There is some cursing involved.** Just letting you know.  
  


**_Signed, Anonymous_**  
_Chapter Seven:_  
_Fire and Ice_

* * *

With solemn eyes, she watched the brown and crinkled leaves roll down the street, caught up in the breeze. It was like they were playing leapfrog, only they weren't the ones in charge, weren't the ones who chose their activity. Every move they made was controlled by some stronger force. She knew how those leaves felt: violated, angry, irrelevant. They were just leaves, nothing more. It was silly, she knew, to be comparing herself to something that could never have any sort of human emotion.

Ruthie sighed, resting her chin in the palm of her good hand, while the other arm cuddled against her stomach in a sling. She sat on the curb outside her house, alone, not intending any company. It was Thanksgiving, and her entire family was inside. Ruthie could almost hear them talking about her, could hear her mother worrying to them. Her dad would be telling them all about his letter, the one _she_ had written. The conversations just wouldn't be complete without including her mirror fiasco and why she was in a sling. 

She ducked outside just as her siblings were stepping over the threshold. At the moment, she couldn't trust herself. She couldn't trust her words, or her actions. She couldn't trust that what someone said wouldn't take her back down memory lane. She couldn't trust anything anymore. 

"Why are you outside?" a familiar, boyish voice asked. 

"Why are you here?" she asked, not wanting to give anything away just yet. 

He lingered, staring down at her, for a moment, studying her body language and her facial expression. As his eyes slid over her injured arm, she knew questions were already forming in his mind, but he said nothing. Instead, he took a seat on the chilly curb next to her. 

Ruthie didn't look him in the eyes. She was irked that he had come along and ruined her time alone. Someone was always doing that: showing up when she desperately wanted to be alone. It was a curse. 

"I know your family's all here. I saw them go inside." 

"So, what, are you _spying_ on me now?" she spat, busying herself with watching a single ant crawling beside her foot. 

He continued on as if she hadn't said a thing. "You still haven't told them, have you?" It was more like a statement than a question. 

"Tell me why you're here again?" she asked, obviously angered, poking at the ant with a nearby twig. 

He groaned, "Ruthie, this is a mistake. A big mistake. You have to tell them." 

In a flash, she stood, throwing the twig to the ground. He was_ not_ going to tell her what to do. After all, he didn't know anything. "No. No, not telling them is not my mistake. My mistake, _Peter_, was telling you in the first place!" 

His hurt was apparent on his face. "How can you say that?" he demanded, standing to reach her height. 

Ruthie shoved her hand in her pocket. "It's true." 

Peter's hurt was subsiding, anger taking it's place. "No. You told me because you trusted me. You told me because you _love_ me! Don't you _dare_ tell me that that was all a mistake." He hadn't realized that he mixed his dream in with reality until after the words were out. 

Ruthie blinked. "I didn't tell you because I trusted you, nor because I loved you. I only told you because you If I could take it back, I would." 

He scoffed. "That's a lie. It's all you ever do anymore." He leaned in so close to her face that their noses were almost touching. "I don't even see why they put up with you. You've become such a bitch." 

_"You're such a bitch," he whispered in her ear._

_She sobbed, wanting his to stop, but never would. His hands grabbed her hips, then slid them up to her bare stomach._

_"You're _my_ bitch."_

Ruthie slapped Peter with all of her might, leaving a red hand print on his cheek. Fire was burning behind her eyes, as her breathing increased. "Fuck you." 

Suddenly he knew, this was not the Ruthie Camden he had known an loved. That Ruthie was lost, never to be found again.

* * *

Matt and his beautiful wife, Sarah, had just sat down and flicked on the television. His parents had seemed a little distracted, not saying much to their children as they arrived. Knowing better than to ask them about their uneasiness, Matt had snuck off to the living room, Sarah right behind him. As Sarah flipped the channel every three seconds, he settled into the familiar couch. His hand had hit something in a crevice. Pulling it out, he noticed that it was a piece of paper folded three times over. Curiosity getting the better of him, Matt unfolded it and scanned the words. As he neared the end, his jaw was dropped.

"What's that?" Sarah asked, looking over his arm. 

Matt shrugged. "I don't know. A letter to my dad, I guess." 

Sarah studied his face a second longer. "If it's just a letter to you father, why are you so pale?" 

Soundlessly, Matt passed the page off to his wife. She read it quickly, and frowned.

"Oh," she whispered.

* * *

Ruthie closed the front door behind her softly, not wanting to call attention to herself. The house was quiet, which was unsettling. No one seemed to be around. She was about to call out, when she heard whispering voices in the kitchen. Quietly, she crept on her toes, trying not to make a sound, down the short hallway. Before she flattened herself to the wall, she caught a glimpse of her family seated around the table. 

"...don't know what to do with her," her mother was saying. "We all know something is wrong, but she won't talk to us anymore." 

Ruthie felt her heart rate increase when she realized that they were all talking about her. 

"She hardly even gets out of bed in the morning," Lucy's tired voice chimed in. "She says it's because of all the gossip going around, but I don't believe her." 

Of course you don't believe me, Lucy, Ruthie thought. No one does. 

"What gossip?" Eric asked, irritated. 

Annie waved him off. "If she can't talk to us, maybe she'll talk to someone else, a counselor, maybe?" 

Ruthie caught her breath. They thought she was crazy. They were going to send her away and want nothing to do with her, just like what they did with Mary. Peter had gotten her quite upset outside, so upset that she did something very unlike herself, but this...this was too much. She was livid..._pissed_. Ruthie Camden was not crazy. 

She pushed herself away from the wall and stiffly entered the kitchen, her hand balled up in a fist. One by one, the family noticed her, and one by one, they realized that she had been eavesdropping. The girl glared at them, her eyes cold, hard, holding not one ounce of warmth. 

"I'm not crazy," she argued through clenched teeth. 

Annie stood from her seat, looking guilty, wanting to explain to her daughter what she had meant by her words. "No, honey, you're not crazy." Unsure of herself, she placed her hands on Ruthie's shoulders, trying to comfort her. "You're just--" 

"Don't even try it. I know what you were saying about me. I _heard_ you. I'm upset, not _incompetent_!" Ruthie shouted. 

Annie grimaced as Ruthie's voice rose. "I know, sweetie, I just-" 

There was a knock on the side door, interrupting Annie's on-coming speech. 

Silence hung in the air as the Camdens hesitated. Sighing, Annie let her arms slip off her daughter's shoulders, and opened the door. A determined looking Peter Petrowski stood in the door way. He smiled at Mrs. Camden like there wasn't any harm in what he was about to reveal. In fact, he seemed somewhat happy about it. 

This is the right thing to do, he told himself over and over. 

Ruthie shot daggers at him, but instead of cowering from her, he matched her glare. She stood almost in front of him, her mother in the middle, still holding the door open. 

As the family looked on, it was as if Ruthie and Peter were holding a silent conversation. Telling from their body language and Ruthie's white growing knuckles, those hushed words were not friendly. 

"I have something to tell you - all of you." Peter was the first to glance away, and into the other innocent faces. 

Ruthie suddenly froze, knowing that he was about to break his promise to her. He was going to tell. He was going to beat her to it. 

"She didn't want me to say anything. I haven't yet because I thought she would tell you herself. Even now, I probably shouldn't be saying anything-" 

"If you know what's good for you," Ruthie warned. 

"But I've seen what a secret can do to a person. Especially one like this," Peter went on, ignoring Ruthie's comment. 

"What is is, Peter?" Eric asked, watching Ruthie's expressions change like the shapes in a kaleidoscope as it turned. 

"She's been lying to you. She hasn't been fine ever since she got home. _She_ wrote that letter you talked about in church. She was raped," Peter finished. He made it sound like nothing, like it was something so simple that could be fixed overnight. He didn't know anything. 

There it was again: silence. Uncomfortable, shocking, disturbing silence. They were looking at her, expecting her to say something, but she couldn't. She couldn't say anything. The only thing she could do, was run.

* * *

**Author's Note: The end is near, my lovely readers.**


	8. I Love You

  


**_Signed, Anonymous_**   
_Chapter Eight:_   
_I Love You_

* * *

Eric Camden wasted no time in finding his daughter help, even if she wasn't there at the moment. He knew that counseling alone wouldn't help Ruthie through this. She wouldn't be able to stay here, he knew. There had been others, others who had kept this kind of terribly painful secret in for so long, they hadn't been able to hold onto their sanity. Had they come to him, Eric could have been able to find them the help that they needed. He wouldn't let that happened to Ruthie. He absolutely would not. 

There was a really good clinic in New Jersey, but he wasn't exactly searching for that state in particular. He was hoping for something in Buffalo, New York, something that would be closer to his parents. If he got lucky, Ruthie would be able to have some sense of family. Besides, if anything happened to her on the off chance, they could reach her faster. 

Calling in a few prayers, and possibly pulling some very important strings, he was able to find something near Buffalo. It was a small clinic, but size didn't matter. He knew, or at least had heard of, the people who ran it. Some of the doctors who worked there were good, religious men and women. Medical wise, they were some of the best doctors one could ask for. 

Eric printed out the informational page, and began to dial numbers, daring to not skip a beat. He was determined to make this work.   


* * *

Lucy sat with her mother in the master bedroom of her childhood home. It was dim, giving the room a chilly feel to it. Annie was clutching a Kleenex tissue, staring a hole through the doors that led out onto the second floor balcony. 

"He was right," Annie whispered, her voice sounding low and hoarse. Slowly, she looked away from the glass doors and crossed an arm over her stomach. "Eric was right," she repeated. 

Lucy, who had been chewing on the inside of her cheek, studied her mother. In these past few hours, minutes even, she seemed to have aged ten years. Her skin color was drained, worry lines running in every direction creased her forehead, and the corners of her mouth were being pulled down by some unseen force, molding them into a deep frown that wouldn't go away easily. 

"What?" Lucy asked, not following. 

"God, how could this happen?" Annie asked, more to herself than to her daughter, who had been griping about sex with Kevin more than anything else for the past few days. Annie found herself going back in time, desperately trying to figure out where she went wrong. She was so ready to believe that Eric was wrong, constantly telling him as much, but in reality, she was the one who was incorrect. She hadn't even _tried_ to get to the bottom of things, which was one thing, as a mother, she always did. 

Lucy was still not understanding anything that was coming out of her mother's mouth. Nothing made sense anymore, and Lucy decided to just let it go. Whatever happened, happened, and she would have to cope with any thing that was thrown her way, no matter how big or small. After the loop that she was ruthlessly hurled through with finding out that Ruthie was the one who had written that letter, was something that she would be coping with for the rest of her life. 

One thing Mrs. Kinkirk couldn't figure out was why Ruthie just didn't come to her with that kind of information. She had hoped that Ruthie knew that that was what sisters were for: telling things that couldn't be told to the parentals. All that aside, Lucy was the one who was studying to become a minister, which also included counseling credentials - not Peter. 

"I wonder if they'll find her?" Annie suddenly said, managing to rescue Lucy from her thoughts. 

"They will. Kevin's a cop, he finds people for a living," Lucy joked, trying to lift her mother's mood. This solemn and broody crap wasn't good for either of them. 

A deep sound generated from deep in Annie's throat, and Lucy counted that as an attempt at a chuckle. 

"Ruthie's going to be fine, Mom. If any of us know Dad, then he's already found something to help her." Lucy placed her hand over her mother's. 

Annie looked to her, and Lucy gave her an encouraging smile. The older woman nodded and took her daughter's hand as well. 

"I love you, Luce." 

Lucy's grin widened. "I love you, too, Mom." She threw her arms around Annie's neck and kissed her cheek. It was in that moment, Annie knew that Lucy was right: everything would turn out for the better. It almost always did.   


* * *

"You know, you're kind of hard to find in the dark," he told her as he squatted down beside her. "But I guess that was your goal." 

She hadn't known how fast she had run, but she didn't care. The only thing that was even remotely important to her, was to get as far away from her family as she could. Had she been thinking rationally, she probably would have stayed behind, perhaps had even offered some sort of explanation. It was just her though, acting upon her first impulse, no matter how stupid it was. 

Now, the jig was up. She had been found by none other than a member of her family, Mr. Matt Camden, who often referred to himself as a doctor. She would have rather been picked up and forced to go home by a police officer, one whom she was not related to. 

Ruthie wiped fiercely at the tear streaks on her face and sniveled. "Yeah, it was," she spat, putting up a facade. 

Under her palms, the grass was cold and wet, the knees of her jeans absorbing most of the moisture into the fabric and soaking through to her skin. She had found herself in the park, dropping down on all fours, gasping for sweet air. 

Long since then, she had caught her breath, but losing her composure. Being alone in the dark allowed her to cry, allowed her to finally scream out loud. Getting out of the house turned out to be a blessing, for her emotions were no longer repressed. Out here, she was able to express the true pain she was experiencing with no one to gossip about her, or to throw her hateful glances. 

"Get up. Let's go sit on that bench," Matt suggested, already feeling his knees cramping. 

Thankfully, Ruthie obliged and they two sat side by side on the nice and dry bench. it took Matt a moment to gather his thoughts, collecting what he had learned in school about what to say in these situations. Counseling was Lucy's area, but he wasn't bad at it either. 

"I wish that I could take back everything that was done to you, Ruthie. I really do. I wish that I could make things better for you here. I wish I could go through this for you, but I know that this is something that you have to do on your own," Matt began, watching his sister's expression stay the same, not acknowledging anything he was saying. "I've dealt with women who have been raped, and I know it's not a pretty situation to be put in. There's a ton of emotions to sort through and figure out." 

Ruthie sighed. For the first time that night, she looked into his eyes. Like another before him, Matt experienced Ruthie's pain through just her gaze. He realized that she was completely open, allowing him into her troubled soul. 

"Matt, could you please stop with all of your doctorly advice and just be my brother?" she pleaded. 

Matt closed his mouth, rubbing his lips together. Ruthie's eyes were glistening in the moonlight, and he knew that she was ready to be comforted. He nodded and let her fall into his arms. 

All Matt could do was hold her tight, and hope that would be enough - for now.   
Her body shook as her loud, messy sobs echoed into the night. 

"I love you, Ruthie."   


* * *


	9. Finding Comfort

  


**_Signed, Anonymous_**   
_Chapter Nine:_   
_Finding Comfort_

* * *

Ruthie pulled away from her brother and wiped her face clean. Embarrassed, she looked to the sky, busying herself with attempting to identify different constellations. Anything to avoid talking about her mangled life. She was still having a difficult time comprehending that she had just broken down. After all of her hard work to seem like her old self, happy and bubbly, she threw all of that away. 

The sky was clear that night, making the stars bright and beautiful, flawless even. Had everything been back to the way it used to be, the Camden family would be sitting down to dinner, just about now, joking and laughing around a table of delicious, home-cooked food. But life wouldn't suddenly get easier, so they had to deal with the bad stuff, even if it was difficult to watch a loved one suffer through something they had known nothing about until a young man, their neighbor, brought it to their attention. 

Matt studied Ruthie, and almost immediately picked up on her unwillingness to talk. Not because of all his training and education, but because of his two other younger sisters. Mary, when she was still an adolescent, wouldn't talk about anything unless you dragged it out of her. She would refuse to believe there was a problem, and when you pointed it out to her directly, she would resent you until she, herself, got over it. 

Lucy, now a married woman, used to cry about everything and everything. Usually, she was open with her emotions, and showcased them dramatically. But when something heavy was happening with her, she would bottle it up until someone was willing to listen. Now, or ever since she began attending seminary classes, or perhaps whenever it was when she grew up, she is less emotional and ready to help others. 

When it came to female emotions, especially his sisters', Matt was more than qualified for the job. 

Ruthie was scanning the sky, her eyes darting back and forth, looking at nothing in particular, it seemed. Instead of forcing her to say anything, Matt joined her, hoping to make her feel comfortable, and to let her know that he would always be her brother, that he would always care about her, that he would always be there for her, day or night, whichever it may be, all without words. If he knew Ruthie, she would be able to pick up on this, and feel it in her heart. 

Unfortunately, she said nothing too soon, causing the two of them to sit there on a bench in the park on Thanksgiving, their only source of light coming from a circular lamp behind them.   


* * *

Simon, who had disappeared just after Matt had left to being his search for Ruthie, walked through the promenade. He felt too angry to stick around the house and sulk about how he never even suspected anything. His fists shoved deep into his pants pockets, he came to a group of suspicious looking boys leaning up against a wall in the alley. He gave so much as a glance as he continued to pass by, but something one of them said made him freeze. 

Simon doubled back. "What did you say?" he demanded. 

One of the thug-ish boys stepped forward, and Simon recognized this boy from his high school days. He was never friends with this kid, but had seen him around dealing drugs to other kids who thought it would make them cool, or to make them fit in. His name was been Jerome, or something starting with a J. Simon never really felt the need to get to know him any better. 

"You heard me, Camden," he drawled, a sloppy grin appearing, bearing a few silver teeth. "I want your sister for tomorrow night at eight." 

Simon resisted the urge to spit on Jerome's shoes. "You're disgusting." 

Jerome put his hands to his chest, acting to be offended. "You think I'm no gentleman? I'll pay her for it." His buddies laughed and slapped hands. 

Simon took a step forward to where he was almost nose to nose with Jerome. "My sister doesn't do the things you think she does. She doesn't sell herself for money. She's _fourteen_." 

Jerome shrugged and chuckled. "The younger the better, right boys?" There was more laughter, and shouts of agreement. Jerome gave Simon a smug look. 

Simon took a step back, shaking his head as if there weren't any words harsh enough to say what was on his mind. Kevin was right: people were going to believe what they wanted to believe, and there was no changing that. 

"Hey, maybe your dad can pray to God so that slut don't end up in hell?" Jerome laughed, this time showing all of his capped teeth. 

Simon jerked his hands out of his pockets and lunged, knocking Jerome to the ground pummeling him with his fists.   


* * *

The clock in the living room chimed, announcing yet another hour had passed by in silence. Mary was home to be with her family, to catch up, and to enjoy Thanksgiving dinner. So far, she had done neither. Instead, she, and the rest of the family, had gotten an gigantic bomb dropped on them by none other than Peter Petrowski. 

Mary had felt like an extremely horrible person. She hadn't a clue about what was going on at home, with Ruthie. If her family had at least called her, she could have found some way to help out. But, no. She was stuck in the dark, once again. Her past had caught up with her. Ever since she declined her credit card bills and trashed the school gym years ago, she was never again trusted with that kind of information. Often, she felt like a child stuck in a woman's body. 

Mary was tired of feeling that way, tired of feeling put-down by her family. They needed to realize that she had a family of her own now, even if they weren't right by her side all the time as a reminder. She had her own life, a steady job, good pay. Everything was finally steady, and the Camdens had yet to notice. 

"So." Sarah interrupted Mary's thoughts. 

For a moment, she had forgotten that Sarah was even in the room with her. The two had been sitting in the living room for the past hour, just waiting for something else to happen. 

"Yeah," Mary mumbled. Just about now, she would have preferred to be alone, left to dwell in her own thoughts and ramblings, but she couldn't abandon Sarah. That would be rude, and to a degree, insulting. Conversation had run dry the first five minutes of their little sit-in. 

Sarah sighed. "I had no idea what had happened to Ruthie," she offered. 

Mary looked to her hands that lay in her lap. "Neither did I," she scoffed. Forgetting about her need to be polite to her sister-in-law, Mary pushed herself off the couch and angrily left the room, her hair whipping out behind her. 

Feeling like she had said something wrong, or hit a nerve, Sarah shut her mouth. Silently, she watched Mary leave the room. Tucking her legs underneath her body, Sarah made herself comfortable. She had a feeling she was going to be there for a while.   


* * *

"Where's the fire?" the reverend asked as his oldest daughter, Mary, almost collided with him at the second-floor landing. Ignoring him, Mary increased her speed to where she was almost running up the attic stairs. 

"Hey, what's the matter?" Eric asked when he appeared in the room only moments later. 

Mary had allowed herself to collapse on the spare bed. She threw a cold glare at her father as he grew closer. 

He took a seat on Ruthie's mattress that was opposite of Mary's. In his hands he held his eye glasses and a pad of yellow paper. Getting ready to write a sermon, probably, Mary thought as she stared at the object. 

Eric set the items down. "Okay, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you're upset with me about something...?" 

Mary looked incredulous as she flung her legs over the edge to face him. "You could say that. How could you and Mom not even have the common courtesy to even give ma a little, _tiny_, clue as to what was going on with Ruthie?" she demanded, feeling her heart pound inside her rib cage. 

Eric looked taken aback. "We didn't know anything until tonight," he explained, defending himself and his wife against Mary's accusation. 

"No." Mary stood and looked down on her father. "No, you just didn't think I was responsible enough to know about that sort of thing." She pointed her index finger at him. "It's always been like this. Ever since you kicked me out three years ago!" Furiously, Mary stomped from the room and locked herself in the bathroom, emerging just seconds later. "Why is there glass on the floor?" 

"Oh," Eric moaned. "Ruthie felt compelled to take some sort of vengeance on the mirror and we still haven't gotten around to cleaning it up yet." 

Mary threw her hands up in the air. "Great! I don't even get enough respect to know when my own sister breaks a mirror! _Thanks_." 

Fights and yelling were things that, as a father, he didn't miss when his older daughters moved out. Eric let himself fall back onto the bed, feeling another headache coming on.   


* * *

Kevin watched out of the window at Matt and Ruthie. There was no telling how long he had been waiting for them, but somewhere deep inside of himself, he found the patience. He knew how important it was for Matt to connect with Ruthie at this time. She had been feeling so isolated for so long, and now it was finally time to feel loved once again. 

A shrill ring moved the air inside of the vehicle as Kevin jumped. His cell phone was ringing. Glancing at the caller ID, he was happy for this call. It was his wife who was still at home. She was probably wondering where they were, and if they had found Ruthie yet. 

"Hey, honey," Kevin greeted her. 

"Where are you?" Lucy asked, skipping the 'hello's. She sounded worried and concerned. Something in her voice told him that she had made a promise to someone, and finding Ruthie was important for that promise to be true. 

"We're at the park. We found Ruthie." Kevin listened to Lucy breath a sigh of relief and he smiled. 

"Is she okay?" she asked. 

Kevin took another look out the window at brother and sister. "If we're speaking physically, yeah, she's fine." 

"Mom isn't doing too well either. She keeps saying that is was her fault, that she should have protected Ruthie like a good mother would do," Lucy explained. 

Kevin sighed. "This isn't going to be an easy fix. What happened to Ruthie shook the whole family, but the fact that she didn't trust anyone of you - I'm sorry, Luce - enough to tell you about it only made it worse." 

"I know." 

"Everything's going to be all right, Luce. Trust me." Kevin could almost see the doubt in her expression. 

"I hope you're right, Kev," she replied. 

"Ruthie will get the help she needs, and in time, she'll be smiling, even laughing, again." 

"Thanks. I love you." Lucy made kiss-y sounds on the other end of the phone. 

Kevin smiled. "I love you, too," he said and kissed back before ending the call. 

Once more, he looked out the window at Ruthie, straining to see her face. He just hoped his words were right. Ruthie was a strong young woman, but Kevin didn't know if she could ever fully recover from this tragedy.   


* * *

Ruthie hadn't realized how much she missed hearing three very specific words until the were spoken to her by someone who completely meant them. Matt had told her that he loved her, and it had felt good. There was a warming sensation in her heart where, for the longest time, there had only been ice. Once again, she felt relevant to someone. For months, she had felt so alone, so isolated. But now things were finally beginning to look up. That happiness that she had thought to have been revoked from here, was finally offered through three words. 

"I don't know how I even lasted this long," Ruthie said suddenly, still gazing at the stars. "I don't know _why_ I lasted this long." 

"You've lasted this long because on some level you've always known you could overcome this," Matt provided. 

Ruthie shrugged. "I just felt so alone." She looked down at her shoes, tracing the laces with her eyes as she spoke. "Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Not even God," she admitted. What seemed so hard to say in her mind, came remarkably easy. 

Matt took her hand. "You'll have to take up God with Dad, but, Ruthie I want you to know something. Ruthie, look me in the eye as I say this." He waited until her eyes were locked with his before continuing. "You are not alone. We all love you. Do you understand?" 

Ruthie felt fresh tears stinging as they welled. She nodded. 

"_I_ love you," Matt repeated. 

Ruthie fell into her brother's arms for the second time that night, only this time was different. This time, she felt comforted. And it felt good.   


* * *

  
  
  
  



	10. Vulnerable

_**Signed, Anonymous**_

_Chapter Ten:_

Vulnerable

* * *

"You just be thankful that it was me and not some other, less understanding officer that found you," Roxanne Richardson pointed out as she stood dividing a bloody and bruised Simon Camden from his parents who tried to keep disappointment off their faces until she left the house.

"Yes, well, thank you, Roxanne for bringing him home," Annie replied with a smile, "but Simon should have known better." The woman's smile faltered as she slid her gaze over to her son, who immediately looked away, pretending to be deeply engrossed in the couch's design pattern.

Sensing the tense energy in the room, Roxanne quickly volunteered to leave, claiming to not want to keep them from dealing with this, much to Simon's displeasure.

Reverend Camden walked her to the door. "Thank you again for bringing our son home in one piece," he said as he reached for the knob behind her.

Roxanne nodded. "He was lucky that he didn't get hurt any worse than he did." The cool air outside greeted her as she stepped over the threshold.

"Oh, he's going to be hurting long after his bruises go away."

"Let me ask you something. What were you _thinking?_" Eric Camden inquired as soon as he entered the kitchen where his wife and son had relocated. When Simon didn't answer, he continued. "Is this how we raised you? The moment you hear someone say something that you don't like, you're only reaction is to clobber them?"

"Eric," Annie warned from behind him as she pulled an ice pack from the freezer.

"No, I want to hear this." He turned to Simon. "Is that right?"

Simon bowed his head and stared at his shoelaces, trying to avoid his father's angry eyes. He knew he was in more trouble that he wanted to be in.

"Answer me!" Eric yelled, finally losing his patience.

Annie put herself in the middle of the two, protecting Simon. She had had enough of this. When Eric got angry, his tone of voice was completely different and even she got scared sometimes.

"Why don't you go cool off and let me talk to Simon?" It was more of a statement than a question, implying that she meant business. "Besides, Ruthie should be home soon."

Once Eric had left mother and son alone in the room, Annie took a seat and gestured for Simon to come and sit next to her. As the boy nursed his wounds, she interrogated in a kinder, gentler way than Eric seemed to want to take on.

* * *

Ruthie opened the front door and shut it quietly behind her. Matt and Kevin were still talking out in the car, and she knew that they wanted some privacy. After all, it was harder to talk about someone when they were sitting right there with you. She had become used to being talked about, had become somewhat immune to it so it didn't hurt as much.

The house seemed empty as she stood in the foyer. It was sort of still, like the weather is just before an enormous storm hits. She was about to call out when she heard her father's angry voice sound from the kitchen. Someone was in trouble, and frankly, she was glad it wasn't her.

Ruthie fled up the stairs as her father came storming out of the room. Thankfully he didn't see her as he slammed the door to his office. For the first time in what seemed like a century, she felt like her old snoopy self. Figuring her father would be in his study for a while, she crept down the steps and got as close as she dared to the kitchen without being seen.

"...they were saying things about Ruthie - things that would never be true in a million years," Simon was saying. "I guess I finally snapped. The gossip was getting to me anyway. And then what Peter told us tonight, I – it was just too much."

Her mother sighed. "We were all feeling the pressure, son, but no matter what anyone says, we have to be there for Ruthie and support her. You can't just beat up some ignorant person the second he says something like that. In your heart you know what's right, and that is all that's important."

Ruthie suddenly found herself wishing that she had just gone up to bed and pulled the covers right over her head, blocking out everything that was going on. She was so tired of all this crap. Everyone was so caught up on feeling sorry for her, they couldn't find any time to just be the family that she had always counted on to brighten her day when all seemed impossible.

Simon was leaving the kitchen and she fully intended on following him to his room to give him a piece of her mind. It was in those few moments, Ruthie had come to the startling conclusion that she was allowing Colton Hunter to dominate her. When you keep horrible secrets like that, you are only keeping the person that inflicted the unbearable pain on you alive. Colton Hunter would not cease to exist until she, herself, got help and wanted it.

She waited until Simon had disappeared into his room before bursting in on him. This had to stop, and it was going to stop right here. Ruthie sighed under her breath and then pushed the door open. Her brother twisted around to see who had just invaded his privacy.

"What the hell was that?" Ruthie demanded angrily.

Simon looked as annoyed as his swollen face would allow. "What are you talking about?" he asked, taking a seat on his bed and removing his shoes.

Ruthie huffed. "Oh, don't play dumb with me, Simon. I know what you did." She put her hand on her hip as the other one hung limply in its sling.

"What did I do?"

"You went out and beat some person up because you feel sorry for me!"

Simon scoffed. "No," he denied pathetically, and at the same time tried to look extremely appalled.

"Oh, so it was just an impulse thing?" she spat, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Simon pushed himself up and walked over to his sister, who he towered over. "Ruthie, you'd better shut up before you say something stupid."

"Or what, you'll hit me?" she gasped, pretending to just discover something. "'The second someone says something you don't like, you clobber them?' Gee, where have I heard _that_ before?"

Simon stepped past Ruthie and opened the door. "I don't have to listen to this anymore." He tried to storm away, but Ruthie followed him out into the hallway.

"I've had to live with it, Simon! For months!" Ruthie screamed, stopping Simon dead in his tracks. "I can't just walk away! It's not that easy." Her voice was faltering as tears filled her eyes.

Simon turned to face his sister as family members appeared behind him, wondering what all the commotion was about.

"I've had to live with my secret for _months_. And during those months, I felt so alone, like everyone I loved had died and I was the only one left. I didn't think that I could feel any worse than I did. But I was wrong." Ruthie's sobs drowned out the silence in between her words. "Now that all of you know, it's even harder. You all feel sorry for me, and I _hate_ that. It's too much, too much. Please, just stop it. Take it back." Ruthie felt lightheaded and felt as if she would fall over.

Eric ushered everyone but Annie and Ruthie off to the living room. Ruthie let herself fall to the floor as Annie came to her.

"Ruthie, calm down. It's okay."

"No, it's not," she bawled, cramming her face into Annie's chest.

Eric kneeled down next to them, tears in his own eyes. He put a comforting hand on Ruthie's shoulder, finding that was all he was able to do at the moment. His daughter had come undone completely, and he was helpless. All that he could do was already done. He just hoped that it was enough.

Annie rocked Ruthie back and forth as she cried messily. It was like Ruthie was a child all over again. In a way, she was. She was entirely vulnerable right now, and they had to do whatever they could to help her overcome this. And they would.


	11. Now and Always

**Signed, Anonymous**

Chapter Eleven:

Now and Always

* * *

Lucy came to sit on Ruthie's bed while she was packing for her very long stay at the rehabilitation clinic in New York. She had offered to help, but Ruthie politely refused. The younger girl had a lot on her mind and frankly, if she didn't Lucy would consider her crazy. After all, she was to travel clear across the nation, away from her family when she needed them the most. But this was something Ruthie needed to do for herself, and Lucy understood that.

"I mean, I just don't get why Dad couldn't counsel me." Ruthie threw a bag of cosmetics into her suitcase. She glanced at her sister. "Or you," she added as an afterthought.

Lucy smiled gently. "Dad and I are too close to you. You need to talk to someone who isn't emotionally involved. That way, you will be provided another view on things that happened. Besides, you're going to need a lot more help than Dad or I could ever give you."

Ruthie sighed dejectedly as she slumped down onto the bed next to her sister. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Lucy put an arm around Ruthie's shoulders and pulled her close. "No," she said. "But you know that you have a lot of people rooting for you back here. We all love you, Ruthie, and we just want the best for you."

Ruthie shut her eyes, suddenly feeling greatly fatigued. "I know," she whispered. "That's why I have to go to New York. Couldn't Dad have found the best for me somewhere closer?"

Lucy could feel Ruthie smile. It was such a relief to know that she was finally on her way to becoming healthy again, and for now, that was enough peace of mind anyone needed.

* * *

There was a knock on Simon's door.

"Come in," he called from his bed, not looking up from his book.

Ruthie poked her head in. "Can we talk?" she asked, feeling really badly about the way she spoke to him in the hall earlier.

Simon set his book aside and nodded.

"Simon, I'm really sorry about what I said to you earlier. I shouldn't have – you didn't deserve to be spoken to like that when you haven't done a thing to me," she apologized, as he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress.

Simon exhaled, bowing his head for a moment. "No, Ruthie. It's okay, really. I'm just sorry that I was such a terrible brother. I should have known something was going on when I saw you and Peter in the hallway."

Ruthie fell silent and looked away. At the mention of Peter, all of her guilt that had been recently lifted came rocketing back.

"What is it?" Simon asked, searching his sister's eyes.

"Nothing," she replied, already putting on another façade. "That was months ago. You shouldn't be worrying about it."

"I know," he agreed meekly. "I just feel like I should have done something, that's all." Simon smiled, trying to get rid of his depressing sort of mood. "I'm really glad that you're going to get better, Ruthie. I mean that."

She sat next to him. "Yeah," she said. "It just sucks that I have to leave home just to do it. Maybe I am like Mary after all."

Simon laughed. "Only you didn't do anything wrong."

Ruthie's face took on a distant sort of expression. "Maybe I did," she faltered.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She was silent for a while, and Simon wondered if she was even going to respond. "If I hadn't waited so long to say something, then maybe I wouldn't have to leave." She scoffed. "I didn't even do _that_. Peter told everyone while I just stood on the sidelines, watching."

"Ruthie, it doesn't matter who told who. All that matters is that we know, and you're getting help. Like I said, you didn't do anything wrong. Don't blame yourself. Promise me you won't."

Ruthie turned to him and smiled. "I promise." She gave him a hug, his cheek against her ear. She couldn't remember the last time she and Simon had shared an embrace - it had been so long. Ever since he reached high school, their relationship had somewhat diminished. Ruthie had a feeling that this very thing that had seemed like a curse before was a blessing in disguise. Maybe her getting help was the very thing that would bring her family even closer together.

"Ruthie," Annie called softly, standing in the doorway grinning. "You should get to bed. You've got a plane to catch tomorrow morning."

"Good night, Simon," Ruthie said as she exited the room.

Annie came into the room and kissed her son on the crown of his head. "I heard what you were saying to Ruthie."

Simon got into bed, pulling the sheets up to his chest. "I wouldn't have doubted it. Someone always hears," he joked.

Annie laughed. "I think it was just what she needed to hear. Good night, son."

"Good night, Mom," he replied as she flicked off the light, darkness covering the room as if it was a very thick blanket.

* * *

Eric Camden loaded the last of his daughter's luggage into the trunk of their mini van. A familiar feeling returned to his stomach as he looked over his shoulder and watched Ruthie descend the front porch steps. It was the same feeling he had when Mary was sent to live with her grandparents to clean up her act. That moment hadn't been one of his best, but it was a necessity. Now he was getting ready to do the same thing again, but this time he was happy to do it. Ruthie wasn't leaving because she had fallen into a dark hole of financial debts – no. She was merely a scarred soul, searching to be healed.

The minister shut the trunk easily with one hand as the rest of his family said their goodbyes on the front lawn. He smiled with tears in his eyes as he recalled all they had gone through and had come out victorious. It was amazing to see that after everything that had happened in each and every one of their lives, they were still here, happy and healthy, conquering each problem that was thrown at them without warning.

Annie came to stand by his side, slipping her arm through his. They didn't speak; no words could describe what great feelings ran through their blood at that point in time. It was just fantastic – absolutely fantastic – to watch their children embrace each other at an occasion like this. While they looked on, they knew that things would work out. The Camdens were strong and could handle anything.

Eric glanced at his watch and sighed. "Ruthie, it's time to go," he called.

Disappointment was blunt on the young woman's face as she pulled the seatbelt across her chest. She was in for a bumpy ride. Being the victim of rape does not come without consequences. Thankfully, she was not letting those consequences run her life any longer – she refused. That was why she had to fly across the nation to New York to get the best help possible.

"Ready?" her mother asked as she turned around in her seat to face her.

Ruthie smiled slightly, feeling even more nervous by the second. Annie reached back and patted her knee, a clear attempt to comfort her.

* * *

As the vehicle pulled out of the driveway, those who remained watched and waved until they were out of sight.

Staring absently down the empty and desolate road, Luc, suddenly having second thoughts, asked, "Do you think she'll be okay?"

Kevin came up behind her and pulled her close. Lowering his head to give Lucy a kiss, he replied, "She's a Camden. She'll be fine."

Lucy smiled, suddenly remembering her previous talk with Kevin over the phone last night. A feeling of comfort washed over her as she placed her hands on Kevin's, which currently rested gently around her waist.

Slowly, the group began to disperse, but before they could even set a foot inside the house, a frantic voice called out to them. Turning, the Camdens saw a teenage boy running across the street in their direction.

"Ruthie," Peter panted as he came to a halt, hands on his knees. "Where is she?"

"You just missed them," Matt informed him.

Seeing the disappointment and sadness wash over Peter's face, Mary volunteered to give him a ride to the airport and soon she and the boy were riding at the exact speed limit en-route to stop Ruthie from getting on that plane. Peter sat in the front passenger seat, twiddling his thumbs, causing Mary to believe it was a nervous habit. She smiled slightly.

"You're doing the right thing," she assured him, assuming she knew what was going through his mind.

He glanced out the window, eyeing the traffic. "Yeah," he mumbled.

"I know how you're feeling. You feel guilty about the way you left things with Ruthie and about how you told us about what happened to her. You're afraid of how she'll react when she sees you." She waited. "Am I right?"

"Maybe," he sighed. He didn't want to admit it, but Mary hit the target dead-on. Peter hadn't spoken to Ruthie in days – not after he blabbed everything he knew in that respect to those who she was closest to. Truth was, guilt plagued him day and night, even creeping into his never-ending dream. She wouldn't talk to him –at least, he didn't deserve to be talked to.

Peter had felt like the biggest idiot. He knew she was leaving; her father had called and told him so, yet even then, he had done nothing…not until she had already gone.

* * *

As Ruthie sat with her parents at the airport terminal waiting for them to announce her flight over the public address system, she recalled all the comforting words her family offered in attempt to calm her nerves. She was going to be okay. After all, she shouldn't feel bad about anything – she had made up with everyone she had wronged or had been rude to…everyone except Peter. She had not even heard from him in what seemed like forever. He was angry with her, and for good reason. The past few months she wasn't even herself. It was like she was a different person looking in on her life, watching what she was doing, but couldn't feel anything. Her body had felt completely numb, and anything and everything that she did seemed surreal. Needless to say, she would be happy when all the darkness she had in her heart was finally destroyed. The best part would be that she did it herself.

"Flight 219 now boarding," a woman's voice sounding electronic repeated over the loud speakers.

Ruthie took in a deep breath as her nerves that she had tried so hard to repress came back even harder than before. She could feel her knees shake as she got to her feet and lifted her luggage that seemed to be twenty pounds heavier. Her mother and father were on either side of her as they made their way to the gate to see her off.

Ruthie handed her ticket to the friendly looking woman behind the gray podium after a wide-set man who was in front of her had disappeared down the long, tunnel-like hallway that connected the plane to the building. The woman smiled at her as she handed the ticket back. Ruthie moved out of the way so the others behind her could get their tickets checked and she could say a final good-bye to her parents.

Annie put her warm hand to her daughter's right cheek as she kissed the other. There were tears in her eyes.

"Mom, please. Don't cry. I need you to be strong right now, because frankly, I'm really not."

Annie smiled as she wiped at her eyes with a white tissue. "I'm sorry, baby," she replied, composing herself once more.

"It's too bad you didn't hear from Peter," Eric said, putting a fatherly hand on Ruthie's shoulder.

Ruthie sighed. "Yeah, well, I was really nasty to him. I don't blame him for not wanting to see me. If he calls, will you tell him I'm sorry?" They nodded. "Thanks."

"You should probably go, Ruthie. They're waiting on you," Annie said.

"Yeah," she replied, once again picking up her suitcase. "Love you." She turned her back to her parents and began walking.

"Ruthie! Wait!" a voice called from behind them.

Ruthie and her parents spun around and saw Peter and Mary running through crowds of people towards them. A wide grin spread on Ruthie's face. She dropped her suitcase in the doorway of the long hallway and ran into Peter's arms.

"I'm _so _sorry!" she yelled in his ear, on the verge of hysterics.

"Me too. I almost didn't come." He pulled away. "I love you, Ruthie. I wish you didn't have to go."

Ruthie glanced over her shoulder and saw her parents arguing with the woman who was shouting something about the plane's schedule.

"I really have to go." She began inching backwards toward the gateway.

"I know," he replied. "I just wanted you to know that I really care about you, and that I'm sorry for calling you what I called you on Thanksgiving."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry too. We'll talk more about it when I get back."

"Any idea when that might be?" he asked hopefully.

"No, but I _am_ coming back. This is just something that I have to do."

Peter smiled. "I know." He paused. "I'll wait for you."

Ruthie pulled Peter's face toward her and kissed him. It didn't last very long, for she was already responsible for throwing the airplane's tight schedule off, but for those few moments, every wrong in the world was righted. It was like she and Peter were in seventh heaven and they were the only ones there. It was bliss. Pure bliss.

Offering a quick apology to the woman, Ruthie ran down the gateway and disappeared around a corner.

Peter stood staring dumbly after her until the woman, now looking slightly relieved, closed the big metal door behind her. He didn't know what he would have done if he hadn't caught her, but it was a good thing that he did. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, the hole in his heart was filled. Even though Ruthie wasn't here physically, he would always have the memory of the kiss that they shared and that would be enough - for now. Until that day when she arrived home, he would be waiting for her. Ruthie Camden owned his heart now and always.

_The End_


End file.
